


With The Last of My Self-Belief

by mardia



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Always a Different Sex, Double Penetration, F/M, Mirror Universe, Multi, Rough Sex, Rule 63, Threesome - F/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-30
Updated: 2010-04-30
Packaged: 2018-07-12 08:54:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7095202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mardia/pseuds/mardia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the door slides open in front of her and she walks into the captain’s quarters, Leah feels the ever-present resentment rise up in her throat as she looks at the two of them. “Captain. Commander,” she manages to say with a modicum of deference, while Spock nods in response and Kirk smiles at her, his grin bright and infuriating.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With The Last of My Self-Belief

As the door slides open in front of her and she walks into the captain’s quarters, Leah feels the ever-present resentment rise up in her throat as she looks at the two of them. “Captain. Commander,” she manages to say with a modicum of deference, while Spock nods in response and Kirk smiles at her, his grin bright and infuriating.

“You wanted to see me?” she asks, shoving down her apprehension and bewilderment deep in the pit of her stomach, where it can curl up into a heavy ball. Sure, Kirk and Spock have been known to summon her to either of their quarters for…private sessions, but this is the first time they’ve done it together.

Experience tells Leah that whatever’s going to happen here, it can’t be good. 

Kirk’s grin gets impossibly wider, and that knot of apprehension in her stomach only gets bigger, harder to ignore. Leah looks to Spock, who’s as blank-faced as ever, and so she believes, has to believe, that whatever Kirk has planned, it can’t be _that_ extreme, otherwise Spock would protest. Not out of any concern for her, of course, but she’s a talented CMO and the ship would be less efficient if she were to be too badly damaged. 

There are times, she thinks with a tinge of dark humor, that fucking a walking computer comes in handy.

Of course, fucking both the first officer and the captain of the Enterprise has its benefits as well, but Leah doesn’t think about that. 

Except for when she does, when she’s too drunk or too bitterly self-aware to do anything else.

“Yes, we did,” Kirk says, leaning back in his chair. “Want a drink, Bones?”

That’s an offer she’ll take without blinking, and so Leah nods brusquely, heading over to Kirk’s liquor cabinet and pouring herself a tumbler-full of brandy. She’s off-duty and there’s no one it’ll hurt, and whatever happens here will happen whether she’s sober or drunk. At least if she’s drunk, it’ll hurt less.

Besides, say whatever else you can about him—and Leah does, all the time in her head—Kirk does have good taste in liquor. 

So she pours her drink and knocks it back, swallowing it all down without a pause, her head tilted back, all too aware of their eyes on her, on the line of her throat, the curve of her jawline, her lips wrapped around the rim of the glass.

She sets the glass down on the table, absently licking her lips before she can think better of it. When she looks back at the two of them, they’ve both gone still and watchful. _Predatory_ , Leah thinks before she can stop herself, and shivers at the thought.

“Well?” she prods, her voice sharp. “I assume you didn’t summon me here just so I could drink up all your liquor, Kirk.”

Kirk smiles at her again, but there’s a harder edge to it now. “No, I didn’t. Spock and I,” he says, jerking his head in Spock’s direction, “—were thinking that we’d like to have you. Together.”

Leah doesn’t get it for a moment, and then she looks at them and she gets it, abruptly, her body flushing hot for a moment before she goes cold.

When she finally speaks, a part of Leah’s marveling again at how steady her voice is. “In that case, I’m going to need more liquor,” she tells them, turning back towards the cabinet, her hand reaching out for the bottle of brandy.

But before she can grab it, Spock’s there, gripping her wrist, his fingers hot and hard even through the fabric of Leah’s shirt. “I think you’ve had enough to drink, Dr. McCoy.”

Leah meets his gaze. “If you’re planning to do what I think you are, then I haven’t had _nearly_ enough,” she says darkly. “Now let go of my wrist, Spock.”

He doesn’t. Instead he looks at her, his face blank but his eyes fathomless and asks quietly, “Do you wish to leave?”

Leah feels her throat tighten up, thinking of the half-dozen truthful replies she can never say out loud, and she hisses out, “Let go of my wrist, you bastard.”

Spock lets go, his hand falling away from her wrist as though it had never been there, but Leah feels the echoes of his too-tight grip, the bruises that are already forming, even as she rises up on her toes and presses her mouth against his. 

It’s not a nice kiss. It’s never a nice kiss with them, or with her and Kirk for that matter. Spock presses against her too hard, and Leah’s never shy about using her teeth. And every time, it makes something dark and hot unfurl inside of her, makes her press her body closer, makes her slide a hand into his sleek hair and grip it, hard. 

She’s not thinking right now. The trick is to never let herself think.

“Enough,” Kirk says, cutting through the haze that’s fallen over Leah’s mind. “Spock, back up. Now.”

Spock moves away from her, his hands falling to his side as he clenches them into fists for a moment, breathing heavily, and Leah still manages to find a measure of triumph in that, making Spock come undone.

Leah looks at Kirk, pressing her kiss-swollen lips together tightly, and is unsurprised to see that his face has gone dark, his eyes glittering in his face. “Come on,” Kirk says tightly, and leads them both to the bed, where he sprawls, propped up on his elbows, his legs splayed, his erection obvious. 

Spock goes to stand beside the bed, and they both look at her. 

“What’re you waiting for, Bones?” Kirk asks, his voice soft. “Take your clothes off.”

Leah stands there for a moment, her breathing unsteady, waiting for a beat, and then another, and then she reaches for the hem of her shirt, and in one quick movement, pulls it over her head, tugging her arms out of the sleeves and letting her blue Science shirt drop to the floor. 

She toes off her boots, reaches down to pull off her socks, and once she’s standing there in her bare feet, Leah reaches for the button and zipper to her regulation pants, and pulls them down past her hips, letting them pool at her feet.

Once she’s in nothing her bra and underwear, Leah looks at the two of them again. “Should I strip further, or will this do?” she asks, sarcastic. 

Kirk’s eyes are hot as he looks at her. “Yeah, you’ll do. C’mere, Bones.”

And she does it. She walks over to the edge of the bed, crawling right into Kirk’s arms, into his lap, letting him wind his arms around her and reel her in, his fingers pressing bruises into the bare skin above her ass, rocking up against her in a steady, maddening rhythm. 

Leah presses back down against him, staring into his blue eyes. “Are we going to do this, or what?” she asks, her voice unsteady.

Kirk answers by pulling her head down into a harsh kiss, licking into her mouth, his teeth sharp against her lower lip, tugging.

He pulls away from his mouth to order, “Spock, come here.”

Leah’s breathing quickens as Spock, as always, does as Kirk orders, moving to kneel behind her on the bed, his hands hot as they slide up and down her bare back. She shivers as he presses his lips to her shoulder, move her hair to the side to kiss along her neck. 

Kirk’s palming at her breasts, his touch heavy, thumbing her nipples through the thin fabric, making her groan into his open mouth. He starts tugging at the straps to her bra, impatient, and Spock’s right there, working at the hooks in the back.

She sits up as the clasps are undone, shrugging out of her bra, Kirk and Spock helping her along the way, and then their hands are on her bare breasts and Leah’s biting back a whimper, the ache between her legs only getting worse.

Kirk notices, of course he does, and he says, “Uh uh, Bones, none of that, I want to _hear_ you,” and he grips her hips as he says it, dragging her in. 

Spock tugs at one of her hands, turning it around in his and gripping it tightly enough that she wonders if he’ll break her bones, if she’ll spend the night in Sickbay putting her broken hand back together—and then he brings them forward, guiding her fingers with two of his so that they’re rubbing at the front of her underwear together, roughly fingering her clit through the wet fabric.

She does cry out then, can’t help it, letting her head fall back against Spock’s shoulder as she shudders, and Spock uses his free hand to turn her head towards his, and Leah kisses him, her eyes fluttering shut despite herself. 

And for a moment, there’s almost something tender in it, even though she’s trapped between the two of them, nearly naked while they’re both still fully clothed, even though Kirk’s hands are still all over her, leaving marks that have yet to appear. 

She feels fingers hooking into her underwear, and the air stutters in her chest for a moment. Kirk looks at her, his eyes seeming to burn in his face, and says to Spock, “Help me get these off.”

And they do, manhandling and maneuvering her out of them, pushing her down on her back into the soft sheets, working the scrap of fabric down her legs, over her feet, until she’s naked and shivering, spread out for their gaze.

Leah licks her mouth and tries to steady the hammering of her heart as they study her, look at all of her lying there exposed, and Leah lies on her back and tries not to think of all the weapons Kirk has lying around this room, carefully hidden and yet always easily-accessed, or of the sheer strength in Spock’s body, how he could break her without even really trying. 

They could do anything to her, anything at all, and there’s not a person on this ship or in the universe that would stop them.

Spock’s fingers brush against her cheekbone, and Leah grits her teeth, and forces herself to think of nothing at all, closing her eyes again and breathing through her nose, in and out, until her breathing and heartbeat are steadier, until she can look Spock in the face and be calm. Detached.

When she opens her eyes again, there’s a tension around Spock’s mouth, a glint of frustration in his eyes, and Leah lets satisfaction uncurl in her chest at the sight of it, in the sight of his fingers falling away from her face. 

“Aw, don’t be like that, Bones,” Kirk says, breaking the silence. “C’mon. Open up that big brain of yours so Spock can take a look.”

Leah stares up at the ceiling. “No,” she says, her voice steady, and now it’s Kirk’s fingers on her face, gripping her chin and forcing her to look him in the face, the touch hard and angry even as his face shows nothing but amusement.

“No?” Kirk repeats, sounding almost delighted. “You know, that’s not a word I’ve been hearing from you a lot lately.” Leah feels a surge of anger at this, which is exactly what Kirk’s looking for, she knows.

“I think I like it,” Kirk muses, leaning forward until his face is all she can see, all she can focus on. “Say it again, Bones.”

Leah presses her lips together and stays silent.

“C’mon, Bones,” Kirk taunts. “Go ahead and say no.”

Leah closes her eyes once more. “Shut the fuck up and do what you’re going to do already,” she mutters. 

Kirk pulls back, his thumb running across her lower lip; Leah has the urge to bite at it until she draws blood, but like with so many other things, she refrains. 

All these months of them laying claim to her, in public and in private, months of their hands on her, and Leah still jumps as Spock’s hand suddenly rests on the middle of her stomach, fingers splayed. She holds still as he trails his hand lower, and lower still, and despite everything, a hitch in her breathing escapes her as he gently cups her cunt, his finger sliding back and forth along her clit. 

She’s already wet, and it’d be an easy thing to jerk up into his touch, to press herself forward until he’s slipping his fingers inside of her, working her open and—

Leah holds still, her hands curling into fists. Finally she says, “If all you wanted to do was stare at my body, I could have given you a holo.”

“Trying to make us mad, Bones?” Kirk asks pleasantly.

“Trying to get you to just _do_ this already,” Leah snaps, and she knows it’s idiotic to push, but she can’t stop herself. “I’ve got reports I could be filling out.”

Kirk laughs at this, loud and long, and as he does so, his hand glides down and he pushes two fingers inside of her, rough and blunt, and Leah stifles her cry as quickly as she can, but not fast enough, judging from the smirk of satisfaction on Kirk’s face. 

He keeps working at her, stretching her open while Spock keeps rubbing her clit, the pressure never too hard, never too rough, exactly the way she likes it and she hates them for that, hates them so much she could scream with it.

She’s biting her lip so hard that she’s about to draw blood, but a cry escapes her nonetheless and the second that Kirk hears her, he scissors his fingers and oh, oh, Leah cries out again before she can think, before she can stop herself and on reflex, she claps her hand over her mouth to muffle the sound.

In a flash, Spock’s free hand reaches out and rips her hand away, tightening painfully around her wrist as he pins it to the bed. “No,” he hisses out, and Leah’s breath catches in her throat at the look in his eyes. “ _No_. You shall not—you _will_ not—“

“We’re gonna make you talk, Bones,” Kirk promises, and he’s sliding a third finger into her now, making Leah’s treacherous mouth gasp even as she glares up at him. “Everything you’re holding back, we’re gonna hear.”

 _No_ , Leah thinks. _Never_. 

It’s a near thing, because at this point they know her—know every inch of her body, every sensitive spot she has, and they exploit them ruthlessly, but Leah bites at her tongue, at the inside of her cheek, and holds back as much as she can, even as her hips snap up into their hands, even as her breathing gets shorter, faster. And even when her restraint fails her and she starts to whimper, low in her throat, she never lets the whimpers turn into sobs or cries. Or pleas. 

And eventually she comes, despite everything, her mouth open as she takes in silent gasps for air, staring up at the ceiling, her fingernails digging into her palms. 

As she’s trembling with the aftershocks, she hears Spock make a sound, almost a snarl, and looks over to see him dragging Kirk’s fingers out of her and pushing him to the side. Leah’s eyes snap open in shock, but Kirk doesn’t seem to mind, grinning broadly as Spock roughly pushes apart her legs, his wet fingers unzipping his pants, pulling his cock out and he lifts up her hips and pushes into her roughly, so hard that she does cry out.

“There you go, Spock,” Leah hears Kirk say, approving, over the loud buzzing in her ears and the sound of Spock panting above her, bracing himself with his arms even as his hips snap forward, pushing into her once more, hot and thick inside of her.

Leah tries to hold back the cry but it comes out as a strangled noise regardless, and she sees Spock’s face twist in response momentarily. 

“Yes,” he says, and Leah only ever hears him like this when she’s naked and crying out beneath him, that’s the only time she hears this note in his voice. “There it is.”

And he’s right, because she’s snapping her hips up, moving with him despite herself, rocking forward, desperate and aching and she wants this to be done, she wants this to be _over_ —

“Roll her over, Spock,” Kirk orders calmly, and as always, Spock does what Kirk orders and rolls them over until she’s on top, her legs splayed as she sits on his cock, and Leah pushes herself up on her arms, her hair hanging in her face as she gasps, and for one wild second she thinks of pushing herself off and away from them, from this bed, grabbing her clothes and making a rush for the door—

But then Kirk’s crowding her from behind, leaning in against her back, his warm hands running down her back, trailing along her spine and Leah twitches as they brush against the small of her back, and go lower still.

Her heart jumps into her throat, and Leah tries to quell it, tries not to feel the sweat breaking out along her hairline, between her breasts. Spock’s still rocking up into her, shallow thrusts that send jolts of pleasure through her. 

When the threat is constant, fear is pointless. Still, she can’t help from saying, her voice wobbling only a little, “If you do this wrong, I’ll be laid up in Sickbay for days, if not weeks.” 

“Relax,” Kirk says, his voice casual as Spock reaches up and brushes the hair out of her face. Leah holds still, even though her first response is to shy away, and then push his hands off her. “I’m wounded, Bones. Since when have we ever hurt you?”

She stares down into Spock’s dark gaze and answers Kirk’s question, even if it’s pointless and dangerous to say the truth out loud. “Every single fucking day.”

Spock stills, still hard inside of her. Kirk doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and when his answer finally comes, it’s in the answer of a bite, his teeth sharp against the nape of her neck, and he digs in until she’s squirming and crying out, helpless and pained. He’s broken the skin by now, she’s sure, and Leah wonders, panicked, if he won’t be satisfied until he’s torn out a chunk of her skin—

It’s Spock that puts an end to it, with one calm, “Captain.” Kirk pauses, the pressure of his teeth no better and no worse, and then he’s letting go, pulling away and Leah groans as she tentatively explores the torn skin with her fingertips, wincing as she feels the sting and ache, and when she pulls her hand away, the tips of her fingers are sticky with blood.

“Mother _fucker_ ,” she hisses, and Kirk laughs suddenly, bright and merry against her ear. 

“Sorry to disappoint you, Bones, but that’s one thing I haven’t done, actually,” he tells her, and Leah shudders in response. “And if you think that pissing me off is going to end this faster, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

His hands slide forward, until he’s cupping his breasts from behind, his touch firm, rolling her nipples between her fingers. Leah freezes as Kirk’s mouth suddenly brushes against her ear, his breath hot against her skin as he declares, “We’re not going to stop until we hear you _beg_.”

Leah’s heart is pounding in her chest, but somehow she manages to say dismissively, her mouth dry, “Good luck with that.”

Kirk huffs a laugh in her ear, his fingers pinching her nipples for one painful moment, and then he pulls away. Leah tries not to feel relief at this, knowing it’ll be temporary, knowing that—

Spock’s hands are at her breasts now, the touch deceptively gentle as his fingers trail at the underside of her breasts. He moves a hand down to her clit, working at her until she’s setting her teeth and rocking back into it once more. 

All too soon, Kirk’s pressed back in close against her, a firm hand resting on her back and pushing her down firmly, until she’s lying pressed in close against Spock, her face resting in the crook of his neck.

Kirk works a finger—slick with lube, thank God—into her ass. Leah’s far too tense to relax like she should, but Kirk’s already made his point with the bite on her neck, and works at her patiently, using more lube, his finger thrusting in and out shallowly. 

Leah’s burning up between the two of them, Spock’s shirt scratchy and uncomfortable against her bare skin, and she holds herself still, panting into Spock’s neck, not sure what he’s able to pick up from this and not caring all that much at the moment, truth be told. 

Kirk’s up to two fingers now, and he’s talking again, but hell if Leah can pay attention now—between the pressure of Spock’s cock and Kirk’s fingers, Leah’s mostly focused on keeping her breathing as steady as possible.

“Doctor McCoy,” Spock says into her ear, his voice low and rumbling, and she’s not sure where he got the idea to stroke her hair like a favored pet, but he is and it’s not like she can shove him off, “—you must relax.”

The irony of a _Vulcan_ telling her to relax at all, especially in a situation like this, has Leah bursting into more than slightly hysterical laughter, trembling against him.

And then Kirk’s fingers are pulling out of her, and Leah’s chest clenches in panic, and soon enough, Kirk’s pushing into her, hot and slick, and Leah hiccups for breath as he keeps going, relentless, the stretch and ache of it unreal, and he’s still moving inside of her, until he’s fully inside, and Leah’s gasping for breath, overwhelmed. 

Kirk’s hands are overlapped with Spock’s on her hips, and for a moment Leah can’t breathe, trapped between the two of them, full and aching and _wanting_ , despite it all, despite everything that should be making her cringe away in horror. 

“Fuck,” she hears Kirk mutter, and he’s the first one to move, thrusting in and out shallowly, slowly, and Leah can’t stop herself from whimpering, from dropping her head and trying to brace herself with arms that don’t want to support her. Kirk keeps moving, and she hears him tell Spock, “Move, Spock, she can take it, you can take it, Bones, just _take it_ —“

She doesn’t have a choice, she never has had any other choice, and so she does, she takes the two of them moving inside of her, Spock rolling his hips up, gasping softly, his face open and slack, and Kirk moving behind her, thrusting forward, hard enough to make her cry out, her hands clenching in the sheets. 

She hates this, she hates every minute of it, and the bitterest thing of all is how much she _likes_ it at the same time, her nipples tightening as pleasure builds inside of her until there’s nothing of her left, nothing but this panting, shivering thing that’s crying out wordlessly, her hair sticking to her face as she moves between them both. 

Kirk presses her mouth to her ear and orders, his voice a purr, “Beg.”

Leah shoves herself back onto him and manages to gasp out, “ _No_ , I _won’t_ ,” and even if it’s more of a sob than anything else, it still makes Kirk snarl in response, still makes him snap his hips even harder. 

Spock’s moving just as fast now, just as hard, his eyes fluttering shut, and Leah stares into his face and tries to understand him, understand the both of them, understand why they keep doing this when they could have _anyone_ else, anyone but _her_ —

But they’ve got her, they do, and Spock’s fingers are sliding away from her hip and moving towards her clit again, moving against her and then Kirk’s there too, his fingers meeting with Spock’s and they’re stroking her off together, moving inside of her together, and Leah’s sobbing for breath and moving against them both, and when she finally comes, sparks go off behind her closed eyes and she sets her teeth against a scream. 

She collapses against Spock’s chest, boneless, her eyes half-shut as they keep thrusting. Kirk’s the first to let go, groaning loudly and coming inside of her, hot and sticky, and Spock follows soon after, tilting his head back, hissing between his teeth. 

Leah’s sandwiched between them, and after a second of this she can’t stand it, and so she elbows at Kirk, muttering, “Get off.”

“Already did, Bones,” Kirk chuckles, but he’s pulling away and pulling out of her, Leah closing her eyes against the wet noise of it, the sharp ache as he pulls out, and once he’s out of her, she rolls to the side, pulling herself off Spock, hissing once more at the painful ache. 

She’ll be feeling this for days to come, she knows, if Kirk and Spock insist on her not using a dermal regenerator—and there really isn’t any reason to think that they will let her. 

She drifts like that for a while, sore and dazed, only halfway aware of Kirk and Spock moving on the bed, taking off the rest of their clothes and lying back down on either side of her, their hands wandering over her flesh once more. 

Finally she twitches away, aggravated, but there’s nowhere to go. “Aren’t you two done yet?” she grumbles muzzily, flinching as Spock’s hands trail down her inner thighs, which are still slick and wet. 

“Oh, come on now, Bones,” Kirk croons softly, tucking his face into her hair as he wraps his arm around her stomach, casually possessive. “Did you really think that was going to be it?”

Leah turns her face into the pillow. “Fuck,” she mutters sullenly.

“I believe,” Spock says calmly, his fingers moving to her still-aching cunt, “—that that is the plan.”

And as always, Spock is exactly right.


End file.
